What Lies Beneath
by Onyx17
Summary: A deeper look at the Female Autobots. Their emotions, thoughts and the part they play in the war.
1. The Gun

_My survival depends on their survival. If I lose them, I lose myself..._

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

My name is Chromia and I'm an Autobot.

My job is to defend. With every last ounce of energy pulsing through my spark I fight until the bitter end to protect my allies. I take down opponents without mercy, without regret; not stopping until the only sounds left on the battlefield are the dying gasps of the enemies intakes, the crumbling rubble of the war torn ground, and the yells of retreat from the fleeing Decepticons.

I take no pride in the death of the enemy, in the sight of their sparks crackling and dying out before my very optics, watching them become nothing more than a hollow metal shell; a nameless husk littering the once peaceful ground of Cybertron. I take pride in the fact that I have succeeded in protecting my comrades. Whenever I walk away from a battle online, as long as I see that every one of my teammates are safe, only then do I allow that feeling to penetrate my spark; filling me with a new found energy, giving me the motivation and vigour for the next inevitable collision with the enemy.

I feel shame only when I fail in my job. When I see the dark, lifeless optics of a comrade staring at nothing but somehow still piercing me...blaming me. I feel that same emotion that has plagued my spark many a battle: shame. I can only condone my merciless killing of the enemy through my comrade's survival. Should they fall in battle, not only have I failed them, I've failed myself. All I have done is add to the already colossal pile of bodies this war has built up. Then, all I can do is force myself to be better next time....because there will always be a next time.

I'm not a healer. I'm not a leader. I'm not a hero. I'm not a killer. I'm a soldier. My job is simple: fire before they do. I want my enemies to see me and know what is to come. I want them to realise that they are in my domain, that I have them in my sights, and that I will not hesitate. I can say this without any guilt because every Decepticon I take down increases my comrades chances of survival.

My name is Chromia and I'm an Autobot, and to any Decepticons I cross in battle, their slayer.

**Author's Note: **_The female autobots really don't get enough attention, so that's what this short drabble was spawned by. Sort of a character analysis of the femmes and their role in the war; I think I'll also do ones for Elita-1, Firestar and Moonracer. _

_I just wanted to take a deeper look into Chromia's persona; you know, past the gun ;D I doubt she's just a simple minded killing machine. Being Elita's second in command [which I'm almost certain she is] she'd have to have a bit more depth as a character. Anyways, I hope I managed to get a good balance between the Iron-Maiden she is on the battlefield, and the emotionally conflicted femme on the inside. _


	2. The Armour

_Focus, practicality, efficiency; without these, my mission would be a failure. _

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

My name is Firestar and I'm an Autobot.

My mission is to save. I find myself, not placed behind the handle of a gun, not tearing my vocals apart barking orders across the battlefield, nor utilizing every ounce of knowledge and skill in my processor to repair injured bots. No, my place is tearing through unstable rubble, scaling down the darkest of caverns, manoeuvring through enemy infested territory; my mission is to delve into the abyss, and return. As soon as I step foot onto the battlefield, my only priority are my comrades; for when they fall, I have to be there to pick them up.

I see the enemy as nothing more then obstacles I must avoid; nameless, faceless, but dangerous. To protect myself, and those whose lives I carry, I take every possible action to evade the Decepticons. Some may judge this as cowardly and at times, I do feel a sliver of shame deep within my spark. But my comrade's survival depends on my survival, therefore my sense of pride or lack thereof is irrelevant.

Granted, I have been successful more often than not, but failure stands out like a black dot on a white canvas when your comrade's lives are involved. There are times when I feel like nothing more than a funeral carriage; serving only to return my teammates lifeless bodies back to base. But I can never allow these feelings to go too deep; a certain degree of emotional detachment is necessary for any job where saving lives is involved.

I have to be practical, level-headed, efficient, and most of all, fast; find them, retrieve them, repeat. I can't ever afford to be side-tracked, not even for an astrosecond. This is why I must have absolute trust in my teammates; trust that they will do everything they can to keep the enemy at bay so that I may divert all attention to my mission.

I'm not a warrior. I'm not a medic. I'm not a strategist. I'm not a hero. I'm search and rescue. My only mission is to preserve the lives of my comrades. I know my appearance causes a mixture of emotions to stir in those I find; hope, relief, anxiety. Whenever I see their optics brighten at the sight of me, when I should feel a sense of elation pulsing through my spark, all I feel is a heavy weight placed upon my shoulders.

My name is Firestar and I'm an Autobot, and to my comrades, their last hope for survival.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_I think Firestar is actually quite an interesting character to write about, as she's the only femme whose occupation in battle differs from offensive. If I were to hazard a guess at her place in Elita's unit, I'd say she's probably the third in command. _

_Considering there's not a lot to work with, personality wise, for Firestar, I'm guessing that she's probably a very emotionally controlled person; as one would have to be in her line of work. Practical, sensible, 'the voice of reason', if you will ;D _


	3. The Smile

_It's not the battle that is the challenge, but what comes after it. Guilt..._

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

* * *

My name is Moonracer and I'm an Autobot.

My duty is to kill. There are only two rules I follow while on the battlefield: aim and fire. I can never afford to hesitate; an astrosecond of indecision makes the difference between a perfect shot, and barely grazing the armour. When I hold my gun, I have to freeze my emotions, quell my thoughts, become someone else.

I remain hidden for the most part; striking from within the shadows. My victims never see anything other than a sudden blast of energy, or perhaps a flash of cyan. Speed is the key. Move fast, shoot fast, reload fast. Such swift actions leave no room for regrets; it's like I've been told before, 'the battlefield is no place for lamentations'. I wasn't always so hard-sparked, but seeing comrade after comrade shot down in front of your optics has a way of hardening you.

I work to perfect my accuracy, so my shots never fail. I want my enemies to be offline before they hit the ground. I don't mean to sound callous; I just prefer my kills to be quick, precise... painless. Death should be sudden and never drawn out. I shudder at the thought of _just_ missing the vitals, inflicting severe injuries on an enemy and leaving them to die slowly, unable to do anything but curse me to the Pit. The idea of someone I've shot being alive to hate me so intensely...that fills me with a fear unlike any other.

During the battle I numb myself to the core, relying on pure survival instinct only. I work with the cold, acute methods of an assassin. When I pause and try to count the number of bots I've shot down, I feel my fuel pumps twist in disgust. Disgust at myself, at the war, at everything and everyone but those whom I've sent to the Matrix. I hate death. I hate being an enforcer of death. But that's why I use a gun, so I never have to truly face those who I kill...never look them in the optic, never watch my _skills_ at work.

Sometimes I feel like a coward; striking from far-range distances, hidden from sight, running as soon as a shot is fired. Especially when compared to some of my fellow Autobots, who run straight out into the range of fire, bring down countless numbers of enemies with no concern for their own safety, showing not a single ounce of fear or doubt in their actions. I could never be like that. The most I can manage is a cowardly shot from the shadows.

I'm not a warrior. I'm not a medic. I'm not a soldier. I'm not a hero. I'm a killer. As soon as the battle ends and we are safely back at base, the amount of self-disgust, guilt and regret I feel well up in my spark is almost too much to bear. But I know how much my comrades also suffer, mentally as well as physically. They have their own burdens to bear, so I keep my feelings hidden. Shove every last one of them to the back of my processor as I once again don my smile.

My name is Moonracer and I'm an Autobot, and to my enemies, a faceless, cold-sparked assassin.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Well, this is something of a different look at Moonracer's persona. I know that she's typically the happy-go-lucky, optimistic little sister figure in Elita's team. But I figured that after so many battles, she'd have to be affected in some way; I reckon she'd be likely to keep that kind of thing hidden as well. Also, she's a sharp-shooter, which is typically a marksman. So this is just something of a guess of how she'd operate in battle. _

_Next up will be Elita ;D_


	4. The Title

_I was made into a warrior, evolved into a leader, but always was and will be an Autobot. _

_Transformers (c) Hasbro_

My name is Elita One and I'm an Autobot.

My purpose is to lead. In my comrades eyes I am their commander; someone who has the answer, the plan, the skill, the vigour, and the bravery. They depend on me to set a standard against which they can measure themselves. They need me to always be in control of the situation, and of myself. But most of all, I _have_ to be completely and utterly selfless. A commander can never put themselves before their comrades; without them they would be nothing.

In my position, I have to become two very different beings. In battle I must be cold, brutal, unwavering and decisive. I can never allow any feelings of discontent or hesitancy to so much as brush my spark. My job is to preserve my comrade's lives, not my enemies. However, away from the battlefield I become someone completely different. Patience, wisdom, cooperation and acceptance are all necessities in order to build a strong bond of trust with my fellow soldiers. They cannot truly follow someone whom they have no faith in.

My function as a leader can be quite literal at times. Should we approach unknown territory, or a potentially dangerous location, I never allow any of my comrades to take the first step. Only after I have inspected the terrain and confirmed its safety do I allow them to proceed. That is what a leader does. It's not a matter of giving orders for others to carry out, you must be certain that the information you have is sound; that you're not just sending them into deactivation. Conviction is of paramount importance, and in the end the only way to be certain is to find out for yourself. This is why, when dealing with new information, I set out alone. I could never forgive myself were any of my soldiers to fall due to my negligence.

There have been times when I've been asked whether the burden of leadership ever becomes too great, whether I ever wish that I had never become involved in the war or had taken up a more subdued position. My answer to this is simple: no. Rest assured, 'Ariel' would never have dreamed of doing what Elita One does every cycle, but they are two completely different femmes. When I was remade into Elita One it was not just my body, but my function; I was made to be a warrior...a leader. My part in the war is quite literally in my programming and I have absolutely no regrets.

Though admittedly, I once felt as though this role had been forced on me...as if I had no say in the matter. In less than a cycle I went from a simple dockworker to a warrior; suffice it to say that it's not something you can aptly prepare yourself for. But regardless of my initial discontent, I thrust myself headfirst into the war. Gathering a band of exceptionally dedicated, skilled and intelligent femmes, I became something I never thought I could be; a leader. Since the day they began to follow me I swore to myself that I would never let them down, and that I would do everything I could to fulfil their expectations.

I'm not a hero. I'm not a killer. I'm not a Prime. I'm not Ariel. I am Elita One. My mission, my duty, my job and my purpose is the war. My very creation was to fight in it and I intend to utilise every last skill I have been graced with to my full advantage. I know there is no going back to the way things were. The Golden Age, Orion...Ariel...they're all in the past. All I can do...all any of us can do is focus on the present, and dream about the future.

My name is Elita One and I'm an Autobot, now and forever.

**Author's Note: **_Phew! Finally got Elita done :) I'll admit that this one gave me quite a bit of grief; I just couldn't figure out what exactly to zone in on for her. In the end I tried to touch on a bit of the most important aspects; her leadership and transformation from Ariel. I'm still not sure I did her justice, but I didn't want it to drag out too long and I wanted to stay away from romance (which is why there's only a very brief mention of OP) _

_I don't think I'll do Arcee, as I wanted to focus more on the separate faction of Female Autobots. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading ;D_


End file.
